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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels

Matsuo Basho

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Matsuo Basho
Age: 50 †
Born: 1644
Born: January 1
Died: 1694
Died: November 28
Artist
Poet
Writer
Vaxjo
Matsuo Basho
Bashō
Bashô
Basho
Matsuo Bashou
Mountain
Violets
High
Violet
Trails
Jewels
Bare
Reflecting
Sky
Seek

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Orchidbreathing incense into butterfly's wings
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Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
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Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
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Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
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When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.
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Friends part foreverwild geese lost in cloud
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What is important is to keep our mind high in the world of true understanding, and returning to the world of our daily experience to seek therein the truth of beauty. No matter what we may be doing at a given moment, we must not forget that is has a bearing upon our everlasting self which is poetry.
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The old pond, ah! A frog jumps in: The water's sound.
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The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
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The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
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Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
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Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
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Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto
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First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
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A flute with no holes is not a flute.
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
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He who creates three to five haiku poems during a lifetime is a haiku poet. He who attains to completes ten is a master.
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Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
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